


Servants At Your Feet

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Angst, Begging, Crossdressing, Cuddling, F/M, Female Dominance, Femdom, Fluff, Jealousy, Nudity, Stripping, Teasing, Tsundere, collar and leash, i hc goetia as a tsundere, it's astolfo he basically just wears girl clothes man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-15 11:23:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: An assortment of femdom fics written for the F:GO fandom~ See individual chapters for summaries.





	1. Karna - Careful Touches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karna enjoys his Master's attention.

Karna is infinitely patient as he observes you sitting between his legs, his back to the wall and his hands planted on the ground by his hips. He's itching to touch you, even just the tips of his fingers on your legs, but it's no trouble for him to keep his hands off you while you explore. It's almost meditative, really, with the dying light of dusk scattering across your features and warming his body just a tad, with your hands and fingers trailing over the wide open cut of his suit.

"I've never quite realised how strong you are, Karna," you murmur as you lay your palms over the sides of his chest, feeling the power coiled beneath them, feeling just the edge of his ribs as he inhales and exhales. "You're rather on the skinny side."

He nods. That is true, he is rather slim. But his body suits his purpose and carries him through his battles gracefully, so he never really thought about how it looks. To be wielding a spear and to conquer his enemies so flawlessly with such a thin body. "Does it bother you?" A twinge of what might be fear makes his heart clench. He'd hate to have a body you don't find attractive.

"No." Your answer makes his breath shudder as he lets out a sigh of relief. "I think you look devastatingly handsome, as a matter of fact."

"Oh," Karna gasps, his eyes going wide.

You nod and smile up at him, inching your fingers downwards and under the thin fabric of his suit, stopping only when you hit the band of gold running up and down his body. "Can I tear your clothes?"

Such a lewd question said in such a frank manner. Karna refuses to admit that he's blushing, though he does nod with bated breath. His black suit is made of simple fabric, the only fairly indestructible bits being his crotch guard. That he undoes on his own while you fist your hands on both sides of his collar, wrenching them apart with all your strength to make the fabric crack and part. Hearing you tear his clothes apart shouldn't be arousing, feeling the fabric tear and feeling the cold air kiss his newly exposed skin shouldn't make him hard, and he definitely shouldn't be biting back moans even before you've touched him properly, yet he's already breathing hard, his head drifting towards you with his lips slightly parted.

Once you have him bare but for his collar, you purr and shuffle closer. Warming his slowly cooling body with your own.

"Your body is cold," you observe in a curious tone, rubbing your palms up and down his chest and abs in an effort to warm him.

It's interesting that you say so because Karna wagers he's about to blow up with the heat of lust percolating inside him. "Ah, I've been like that since I was a child. My mentor once theorised it would-" Karna stutters uncharacteristically when you lean in to kiss his prominent collarbone. He gulps and tries again, summoning all the power in his body not to fall into the heaven of your pillowy kisses. "My mentor thought it aided me against the sweltering heat. We lived in one of the hottest regions-" Once more, Karna is cut off when you plaster yourself up against him fully, your chest fitting against his perfectly. "Aannh-"

"But we're not in India, right?" You smile up at him and kiss his trembling lips, nuzzling the underside of his jaw while he tries to pick up the pieces of his senses. "What do you say I...warm you up. Tonight's supposed to be a cold night~"

Karna shudders with delight, smiling back at you and nodding his head eagerly. Or as eagerly as he allows himself to be. "Yes, Master. I would enjoy that very much."


	2. Gawain/Beowulf - Where's Master

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Beowulf and Gawain make good use of their meaty tits. I mean pecs.

"Gawain, have you seen Master?" Beowulf grins.

"Ah, no, I haven't, Beowulf. Have you checked her bedroom?" Gawain's eyes crinkle shut as he smiles back, shuffling closer to the other, equally beefy, man. 

"Good idea, let's go check!" 

Having had enough, you squirm and flail your hands up as high as you can, reaching around their beefy tits to slap at their chins. "I'm right here! Stop squishing me!"

Gawain is the first to break, tilting his head down to look at you and gasp, a hand raising to his lips. "Ah! Apologies, Master, I didn't see you there." To be fair, sandwiched as you are between their incredibly buff, meaty pecs, you really just disappear into the mass of flesh and scar tissue. 

Beowulf grins and shakes his chest, jostling you even more until you're beating your fists against their shoulders. "Isn't it warm, Master?"

You glower up at them through your fringe. "Too. Warm."

Your knight pouts a little and pulls back just a little, angling himself so he can poke you in the cheek with his hard nipple. "But, Master, didn't you say you enjoyed our...our chests?" He blushes, unable to use the same word that you adore. Tits. He can't bear to say it.

"I do, but not like this!" You whine and try to push them apart to no avail. Not only do they outweigh you and tower over you, but they're also absolutely roped with battle-hardened muscles that don't budge an inch even when you use your entire body to try and squirm out.

"Hehe, Master, that tickles," Gawain giggles innocently, pressing harder into your face until you huff and give in, falling limp and letting your entire body be suspended by their own. 

This is humiliating. But also arousing. But mostly humiliating.


	3. Gilgamesh - Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilgamesh is jealous of his younger self.

Gilgamesh isn't jealous. No, he isn't jealous in the slightest. He's not bothered by you cuddling his younger self, giving the boy piggyback rides, letting the golden-haired child and a young Alexander tag along wherever you go, looking like little puppies following their master. He's certainly not bothered by the child's freedom in calling you Master, in his receiving all the affection you can give to him. 

Why should he be jealous? You've never given any other servant any romantic or sexual overtures, electing to spend time with them in a platonic manner, including himself. A select few receive platonic physical affection in the form of touching and hugging like his younger self and Alexander, but he, King of Heroes, apparently don't count among that number. 

So no, the great Gilgamesh is not jealous in the slightest. He's just frustrated. Frustrated to all hell that you refuse his advances and then turn around to pat his younger self on the head. 

"It's not that I don't find you attractive, Gilgamesh." He can still hear your voice as if you just spoke. It's been said over and over until he can recall it perfectly. Of course, he could recall it perfectly even if you only said it once. "It's just that you're...such an asshole that no matter how sexually attractive I find you, I'd be annoyed to all hell if I had to deal with you as a partner." Even that exasperated quality to your voice is there. Almost like you were saying it out loud...

Wait. He might have perfect recall memory, but that was definitely too real to be in his head. Gilgamesh whirls around and bristles like a cat when he finds you standing behind him, arms crossed and a tired smile on your face, two little Servants tagging along behind you while snickering behind their hands.

"You think too loudly sometimes," you quip and nod up at him, edging around his armoured form to continue down the hallway. The annoying man enjoys standing in the middle and forcing everyone to walk around him. Typical.

Gilgamesh watches your back disappear around a corner with a deep scowl on his face, his hands moving to rest on his hips in a picture of pique. Damn it, he's working on it. It's just not easy not to be an asshole when every single mongrel is utterly useless at what they do. Except for you, of course. His beloved Master.


	4. Cu Chulainn & Diarmuid - Of Sparring and Water Bottles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cu and Diarmuid are sparring while you admire them.

It should be a crime to possess this much masculine perfection. Cu Chulainn and Diarmuid spar with staves in the otherwise empty training ring, the smacks of wood against wood ringing out in the empty hall as they clash again and again. Shirtless, wearing only their leggings and boots, leaving their perfectly muscled bodies open for your greedy eyes, slick with sweat and some parts blooming red with bruises.

Even if it is a spar, they aren't going easy on each other. Smack smack thunk!

Diarmuid scores a point on Cu, finishing off their bout with a bright grin that he beat the great Child of Light. Cu pouts but concedes his loss gracefully, grinning back at his opponent and clasping forearms with him to end the match. They chat for a while longer, critiquing the other's technique. Spending a little while longer training together before they finally call it quits to get some water.

And that is when they discover you watching them with two bottles by your side.

"Master!" They chime together and trot over, Diarmuid greeting you with a bright smile while Cu grins and heads straight for the water.

"Thank you for the water, Master," Diarmuid thanks you sweetly, his hot, sweaty hand landing on yours to bring it up to his lips for a kiss. He must have learned it from Gawain, the sweetheart.

Cu, on the other hand, just fires a quick thanks and drinks his fill, upending the rest of it over his head and shaking all over. Like a dog. And like a dog, he also gets his master wet.

"Cu!" You squeal and shield your face from flying droplets to no avail with a laugh, allowing a hot and sweaty Hound of Chulainn to tackle you to the floor and smear his sweaty self all over you.

"Now you gotta take a shower with us, Master!"

What a roundabout way of luring you into the showers with them.


	5. Caster Gil - A King's Demands (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so deep into Babylonia and I fucking love Caster Gil. God, fuck, I wish this was the version we get in anime. DW MAKE A BABYLONIA ANIME ALREADY. I'LL BUY IT I PROMISE.

King Gilgamesh of Uruk is a man who deeply respects his partner, who appreciates that you do not bow and cower before him like all his subjects. Other than Siduri, of course, but the priestess performed a far more different role than you do. As the sanity to his craziness, his voice of reason when he starts to get bored, his reason to cherish humanity, you are indisposable. Even more precious than all the treasures locked up in his treasury. 

Everyone who is anyone in Uruk knows this. Can tell from a single glance when King Gilgamesh nods and motions you close no matter who he is talking to, excitedly asking for your report even as he gives orders for another matter to be completed. 

Of course, what they don't know is what happens after you drag the King off to his chambers at the end of the night. Amongst the luxurious pillows and blankets that constitute the King's bed, Gilgamesh has his head buried in a throw pillow, his chest on the bed and his ass high in the air. 

He gasps and growls as you plow into him, as you reach below him to fondle his cock and balls like you own them. "Harder, fool! Take me!" Gilgamesh snarls and reaches back for your thigh. "You can do better than this!"

He's tempted to howl and growl a little more, but he's stopped by your hand in his thick, golden hair as it wrenches his head back carefully yet harshly. "I won't indulge a spoiled king, King Gilgamesh. Say it again."

Your voice sets his nerves on edge, on fire, but in the best of ways. He purrs and arches his back, bending his neck and straining so that he may look up at you. "If you fuck me harder, I won't take my blade and slice it over your throat, beloved."

Throwing your head back in laughter, you push his head back into the pillow and put all your weight on his back. Using your hand in his hair as an anchor to fuck him hard and rough until the golden King of Heroes is moaning whorishly into his brilliant red sheets. "I love your claws, King Gilgamesh."

Said King huffs and turns his cheek, glaring up at you with bleary eyes and a smug grin on his lips. "You won't have me any other way. Now, faster!"


	6. Caster Gil - Spoiled Kings (BABYLONIA SPOILERS!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is chockablock with spoilers from the Babylonia singularity. Don't read it if you don't want to spoil some of its ending for yourself. Well, not the ending per se, just the bit that's got to do with Gil. Also I wrote this while crying so if there's a typo...well.

"Why are you crying?" Gilgamesh extends his hand towards you, thumb brushing away the tear falling from your eye. "Surely you can't be that devastated?"

You scoff at him but hold his wrist, feeling the unnatural coldness of it and grip it ever tighter. "Obviously? You're so stupid, you know?"

He rears back, affronted, and stifles the smile growing across his lips. "Pah, presumptuous. I'll have you know I had considered every possibility and consequence several times over." Then Gilgamesh softens and draws you into his arms, gold sparkles almost blinding you. "I will come back to you. I swear it."

You bury your face into his bare chest and hug him tight, digging your nails into his back. "But it won't be you. You said it yourself, it won't be  _you_." It'll just be a copy of him. One with all his bearing and his personality but none of his memories. Even as you cling to him tightly, you can feel how he's becoming lighter, becoming less solid, under your touch. "Please-"

Gilgamesh presses his nose into your hair and lets a few tears of his own escape, pushing away that unavoidable fear that yes, he wouldn't remember you. But he remembers the Gilgamesh that he summoned, his younger self that looked at you with deep affection in his eyes and threw himself into the path of Tiamat's attacks to shield you, and knows that he will remember. He already has. "Don't insult me by underestimating my abilities, beloved. I will never forget you. You have somehow carved yourself into my very soul in a way that only Enkidu ever has. Bothersome though it is to admit, I believe our fates are intertwined."

Then he pushes you away enough so that he can look upon your tear-streaked face once more, his bare hand brushing away your hair and drying your tears. "Now don't give me this pathetic face. Send me off with something that I will remember for all time."

You choke on a sob and let a tremulous smile grow. "I don't indulge spoiled kings, King Gilgamesh. You know that."

A true, loving smile spreads across Gilgamesh's handsome features, free from soot and blood and wounds, and he kisses you one last time. "You won't have me any other way. Farewell, my beloved warrior-queen of Chaldea. We will battle side by side again one day soon."

And then...and then there's nothing but air against your body. Nothing but the memory of his lips on yours. 

As he disappears into gold dust and sparkles beneath your fingers, you clench your jaw and let your hand fall back to your side, something clenched in your grip. "Farewell, Gilgamesh, King of Heroes." 

The bright light of the Rayshift blinds you, dizzies you, almost toppling you over if it weren't for Mash's bracing hand.

"Senpai." Her eyes are full of sorrow and compassion. "Go get some rest."

"Yeah. Yeah, ok," you whisper, your eyes and head already aching. "You get some rest too, Mash. Good work out there."

You exchange some platitudes with Roman and Da Vinci, but even they know better than to keep you. The inventor merely guides you to your room with soft eyes and a gentle touch, her hug bringing forth a new wave of tears to your eyes as she murmurs to you to get some rest. 

As the door slides closed and locks behind you, you robotically go about your nightly routine, your body automatically sliding into the left side of the bed before you realise with a start that the mattress is vastly smaller and colder than what you remember. Ah, you wrap your arms around a pillow and bury your face into it. Ah.

The morning brings with it some clarity and peace. Some measure of acceptance and no small bit of happiness as you remember the times you had in the fortress city of Uruk. The hustle and bustle of people outside the ziggurat, the groans as Gilgamesh forces himself up to get a headstart on his work, the scolding of Siduri as she admonishes her king for not getting a full night of sleep. Now all you hear is the drone of the environmental control unit and the PC at your desk. Unnatural silence befitting the last bastion of mankind in a world that's sure to end. 

You're tempted to lie in bed forever, to fall asleep and never wake up, to join Gilgamesh in his eternal slumber. But you can't. You have a duty even when you're supposed to be on leave in Chaldea. So you get up and walk to the rec room where you talk and play with your Servants, doing your best to drive away the worry you can see in their eyes. Even Arjuna, distant though he tries to be, pats you on the shoulder awkwardly as he tells you not to worry about Gilgamesh.

"That man doesn't lie," the prince says confidently. "He might have a habit of boasting and bragging but he never lies, never exaggerates. If he says he will come back with all his memory, then that's what he will do."

It reassures you more than you thought it would. "Thanks, Arjuna." 

He nods back at you and retreats to a quieter room, an air of contentment floating about him now that he's said his piece to his grieving Master. 

Emboldened, you go back into your room and take out your stash of saint quartz crystals. It's not a lot, but it will be enough to give you the mana to draw him to you. It will. It has to be.


	7. Astolfo - Needy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astolfo always picks the best times to come and annoy you. Like when you're reading a report and getting ready to write your own. Oh well, at least he knows what will definitely distract you~

"Astolfo, what are you doing?" The tablet in your hands is being jostled all around as Astolfo scrambles on the bed, crawling atop you and straddling your hips with a severe pout on his face. He holds his arms akimbo and puffs his chest out, looking ever so cute in the schoolgirl outfit he decided to put on today. 

"Master is being a meanie!" He exclaims and slaps his hands on your breasts, squeezing as tightly as he dares while weathering your wince and subsequent glare. "You're not paying any attention to meeeeeee!" Flopping on your chest, and therefore your tablet, he flails all around and wails dramatically. "I dressed up for you too!"

Sighing, you push him up long enough to set your tablet securely to the side. Seeing you do that, Astolfo perks up and starts nodding with stars in his eyes, anticipating either a slap or a caress eagerly. "Master master!"

Instead of whatever he's thinking, you retrieve his collar from under your pillow and latch it around his neck securely. 

Eh?

Astolfo rears back and pretends to fight the collar and block you from attaching his leash to it. "Nooo! Master, I'll be a good boy!" His terribly concealed giggles spoil his wails as he yanks backwards, pulling on the leash once you manage to get it hooked onto the D ring. "Masterrrrr!"

Your hand remains steady on the leather leash, holding it tight as he yanks this way and tugs it desperately, his hips rutting against your stomach and making you realise that he decided to go without underwear. "You're not wearing any panties?" You lift his skirt to see that, yep, he's definitely gone commando under the criminally short skirt. "Naughty boy!"

With tears in his bright eyes, Astolfo whimpers, "I just wanted to make sure Master had easy access~" Once more, he starts to pout and rock his hips. "I just wanted to make Master happy." Since your hand is still holding his skirt up, and indeed it's tucking the hem of the pleated skirt into his waistband, Astolfo unabashedly humps your belly hard enough that his cock bounces, growing bigger by the second. Eventually, even a bead of precum appears at his slit. "Master~"

His hand twitches towards his cock, grasping it at the base before you reach out to pull his hand away, much to his displeasure. 

"Nooo, Master!" He whines and pouts, trying to tug his hand back so he can jerk himself. "Please?" Then, deciding to change tactics, he starts to inch his free hand under your shirt, slithering up until he can rip it off and access your bra underneath.

"Oi!" 

Before you can do any more than jerk at his collar, he descends upon your breasts, tugging them out of their cups and slurping and mouthing at them. He tries to fit as much of your breast in his mouth, stretching those rosy lips wide and sucking on what he can wrap his mouth around. As always, Astolfo is an attentive lover despite his brattiness, and soon you're also writhing under him, moaning as much as he is. 

Internally, Astolfo smirks and cheers. Point one for him! Now to get you so horny that you'll flip him over and fuck him good! After all, he passed out too quickly last night after his fourth orgasm, his body aching from your spankings and the abuse his asshole went through. He wants to feel you riding him and he definitely isn't afraid to play dirty to get it!

Unfortunately for him, you can guess that's where he's going. So you pull on his leash and drag his mouth away from you. He unlatches from it with a mournful whimper, his teeth snapping as he tries to fight against the collar to get back to you. As it is, your breast has teeth marks and is absolutely dripping with saliva. "Naughty boys who interrupt their Master's private time don't get rewards," you growl at him, pulling him to the other side of the bed, his side, and tie his leash to the bedpost. 

"Master, you meanie!" He wails and reaches to take off the leash when you stop him with a hand and a stern glare.

"Don't take off the collar or the leash." Your voice takes on that one tone that Astolfo can never disobey. "Let me finish this report and I'll fuck your brains out, got it?"

The pink haired knight only pouts harder. "But Master, I'm horny now~"

You roll your eyes. Admittedly, you have been spoiling him quite a bit, which probably led to his bad behaviour. Maybe you should step up his training a notch. It would probably be more tolerable than him traipsing in with the sluttiest of clothes and begging for sex whenever you happen to be in the room alone. 

"Then entertain yourself." At the triumphant gleam in his eyes, you quickly add on. "But you can't use your hands and you can't cum. If you do either of that, you can say goodbye to fucking me for the rest of the week."

Astolfo narrows his eyes and crosses his arms. "I'm the only toy you fuck, Master." The way you said it makes him think you're going to use something else to fulfil your needs. Someone else. "My dick is the only dick that gets to be inside you."

"Not if you're a bad boy, it's not." You point at your toy chest. "There are a bunch of cocks in there that your pretty ass can't take. Bet my pussy could take those."

Relieved, though he'd never say it, Astolfo puffs his cheeks and pouts again. "Hmph, fine. But hurry up!" Already, he's rubbing at his thighs, leaning back against the headboard and wriggling his hips. "I can't last very long~!"

Picking up your tablet again, you sigh and smile. "You'll live, honey. Now keep quiet while I read."

Before you even finish your sentence, Astolfo has flipped onto his front and started rutting his hips into the bed, snatching a pillow so he can stuff his face into it just to stop the noises from being too loud. The sneaky knight knows that as long as he's quiet, as long as he puts on a good show and maybe spreads his ass cheeks, he can lure you into touching him just a little. After all, you never said he couldn't use your body or your hands to get off, just his own. He just needs you to get closer. Just a little closer.


	8. Goetia - My Reason (SOME SPOILERS FOR FINAL SINGULARITY)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's done. Everything's over. Humanity is saved, things are back to normal, and you've decided to live life away from Chaldea as a normal human being. So why is Goetia still hanging around?

You thought the nightmare was over after the entire Incineration of Humanity debacle. Extricating yourself from the mess that was Chaldea after returning from the Shinjuku singularity wasn't easy, but it was something that needed to be done. You needed a break from the madness of being a Master and you couldn't do that while being part of Chaldea. Plus, Da Vinci did agree it'd be best if you disappeared for a while. Those Mage Association hicks were getting nosy.

But back to this being your early retirement. Sighing at the dark corner of your room, you turn back to your book and take a sip from your mug of tea, but even the soothing tones of Lady Grey couldn't distract you from the stare burning into the back of your head. "If you have to glare at me, I'd prefer it if you did it less furiously." Putting your tea back down, you rub the back of your head. "I think the back of my head is getting hot."

"If you insist upon sitting with your back to the sun, it is inevitable that your head will feel its heat." A deep, dispassionate voice echoes throughout your room, or maybe it's just in your head, and a shimmer appears in the corner of your eye. Shadows creep up around your ankles, cool and soothing, speckled with bits of gold dust that, luckily, don't rub off on your skin. 

"Well yeah," you drawl and tilt your head back so you can see a tanned figure melt out of the shadows behind you. "But your glare definitely adds to it."

"You cannot feel a glare." A furrow builds on his otherwise flawless brow. "I did not put any power into it."  
Laughter builds in your chest and you manage to push it back by some miracle. "You underestimate how angry you can look. And stop frowning, you'll get lines on your forehead."

The figure's frown only deepens and he rubs at his forehead. "That's not possible. This body does not age like a human's does. It is a mere shell for my power." He glides across the floor, his gait so smooth and his steps so silent that it appears like he's floating over the parquet, and stops just behind you so his tall shadow falls over you. The long, flowy lines of his hair writhe, its shadows looking like tentacles stretching out to all edges of the room. 

To any other person, it would be a frightening image. A frightening sight. Indeed, when a cold hand lands on your shoulder, you flinch as static pops between your skin and his. But you don't shy away, you refuse to move, when the entirety of his big hand closes around your shoulder and his nails dig into the flesh of your chest. 

"You haven't banished me yet." His voice lowers, deepens, until you can feel your bones rattle inside you at the rumble. "I expected you to cast me out of your shadow once you realised I was there. Yet you haven't. Why?"

Sighing, you close your book and set it aside, closing your eyes and leaning your head back until you can feel the press of his hard stomach against the top of your head. "The same reason why you haven't left of your own volition." It is then that you open your eyes to see the handsome visage of Goetia glaring down at you. You grin up at him. "What? It's the same reason."

"You exist to vex me, do you not?" He growls down at you and plants both hands on your shoulders, one cool as ice and the other warm and human. "Even in defeat, I cannot rid myself of you."

Patting his hand derisively, you pick up your book again and start where you left off. "You can always just leave, Goetia. There's no contract binding you to me." Your voice is carefully nonchalant, your body language loose and relaxed even as his own winds up and goes tense behind you. Part of that nonchalance comes from knowing that he won't harm a hair on your head, at least not in a permanent manner. The other part comes from how his shadows and his hair has already started to curl around your arms and body gently, like a lover's caress. "Could you move out of the way? You're blocking my light."

A hiss escapes him, his gold eyes almost glowing as Goetia, King of Men grumbles at your head. But you are unflinching, unheeding of the threat in his hands, instead petting his hair and his shadows like you would a beloved pet. Reluctantly, he obeys. Moves to the side and squeezes into the loveseat beside you petulantly. Crosses his arms and refuses to budge when you struggle to reclaim your space. "I've moved."

"Yeah, and straight onto the sofa." There's a smile on your lips even as you give up and throw your legs over his thighs, your feet tucking into the folds of his voluminous robes. With a great sigh, you relax into the sofa arm and dive back into your novel, your attention already melting away from reality.

Goetia sits like a robot - stiff and tense. At least, until he realises you're no longer paying attention to him. Then and only then does he soften, leaning back against your sinfully comfortable sofa and dismissing his constructed arm. The stump of his shoulder aches a little, but that's easily ignored when he closes his flesh hand over your calf, tracing the thin and numerous scars that dot your flesh. 

Though he refuses to admit it to himself, you were right about why he doesn't leave. There's nothing tying him to this earth, in truth nothing tying him to this existence at all. He's something less than a heroic spirit, he's not even a human spirit. He doesn't even know if he's a spirit at all, if he's anything more than a collection of thoughts that keep a humanoid form with the aid of spiritrons. Truly, he doesn't even know why he's still here.

Then he looks at your feet as they twitch under his robes, at how your left foot rotates and makes your ankle crack. Over and over and over. A habit. A human habit. He sets his hand on the shin of that leg, closes his fingers around it, and feels your muscles work under his touch. The warmth of your skin, the slightly rough texture of your legs, all of it reminds him of something that he's always desired. Always wanted. And that's the reason, the very reason that he wants to stay. 

Just like his foolish, weak other half, he's only ever wanted to be human. He only ever wanted to fill that loneliness that makes his bones ache, that makes his heart wither and shrivel up in his chest. This is the closest he's ever felt to that dream, that fantasy. With you, he's not Beast I, the creature that tried and failed to incinerate humanity and start anew. Here, he's just Goetia, the occasionally annoying housemate who likes to lurk in shadows and keep your feet and hands warm. Here, you don't treat him like a monster. You just treat him...like another person. An equal. 

He stares at you, at how at ease you are with him, and lets a small smile quirk at his lips. Humanity's greatest Master, indeed. Like Cath Palug, you've tamed him without raising a hand. Well, excluding the time you handed his ass to him. That was embarrassing.

"You're staring again." Your voice snaps him out of his thinking and his wide eyes find you quirking a brow at him in amusement. "What, you want a kiss?"

"No." The reply falls from his lips automatically and he looks away in embarrassment, a blush growing on his cheeks.

Even on his tanned skin, you can tell that he's blushing and you grin. Sitting up in a flash, you peck a kiss on his heated cheek and lie back down just as quickly, raising your book just in time to hear him sputter and put a hand to his cheek. "If you want something, just ask for it."

"Duly noted." His voice is dry and flat, but it doesn't stop the sweet smile from growing on his face. Yes, just like that. That's the reason why he stays. Even if he intends to make you growl and grumble at him again once you're done with your book.


	9. EMIYA (Archer) - An Ideal Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Emiya takes care of you the only way he knows how. A self-indulgent comfort piece just for me.

Emiya would never admit it aloud, but he truly doesn’t miss fighting. A domestic, peaceful life, a life where he is free to care for others as he wishes - that is a life he’s craved for eons. And it has been - eons, that is, since he’s been afforded the freedom to just putter around the house. To cook meals for someone whose smile is ever so precious. To care for someone who deserves to be cared for.

Logically, he knows it couldn’t have been that long. But the years, the summonings, they tend to blur together after a while. For all Emiya knows, he could have been alive for a human lifetime. He could have lived a thousand lives. Either way, he feels like an old man finally getting the retirement he desires. Indeed, this would be his ideal retirement.

“Tadaima~” you call out from the genkan, making him perk his head up from his meal prep and his internal monologue.

Ah yes, what would retirement be without the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life, his existence, with?

“Okaeri, master,” Emiya replies, washing his hands carefully before he comes out to greet you properly. Without a holy grail war, there’s really no need to call you Master. But if anything, Emiya is a creature of habit, and habits such as his desired title for you are difficult to break. Absent-mindedly, he wipes his hands on his favourite apron, his hands ducking behind his back to undo the ties. “How did your test go?”

He stops in his tracks when he sees you shuffle into the living room with heavy, zombie-like steps, your bag falling to the ground with a thump while you rub the back of your neck. “Master?”

You jolt, as though startled by his voice, and you turn to him with a tired smile. “It went good! I think.” You tack on the two words as a quiet afterthought, shadows of doubt creeping over your face. “I’m sure I did fine. Thanks for helping me revise last night, Emiya-kun. I really appreciate it.”

Emiya blinks. Then he quirks a smile. “Happy to help, master. It’s an interesting topic, anyway. Critical legal studies. I didn’t think they taught that at university.” Truthfully, it was the only topic he could help you with. Everything else was laden with legal jargon that he couldn’t wrap his mind around. He might be good at problem-solving, but when there was an entire literal book of things to remember and apply, he really wasn’t much help. He likes to think he helps you get things down when you have to explain it to him, but that’s just as far as he can go normally. 

But even then, even with a topic that’s a lot more approachable than any he’s seen you study, his own brain hurts from how hard he’s been thinking. It couldn’t possibly rival yours though, judging from the drained slump to your shoulders. “You look tired. Do you want to take a nap before dinner? It’ll be a while before it’s ready,” he asks, a slight tinge of concern in his voice at your slowly blanking expression.

Damn, your brain is already starting to shut down. He would have berated you for overworking yourself, but he keeps his scolding to himself as he dumps his apron by the side to come to you. “Master?”

“Not a nap, I don’t think, but I’ll do a lie-down.” You concede at his insistent expression and plop face down on the couch.

Torn between a snicker and an exasperated sigh, Emiya glances into the kitchen and works through how much time he has before he has to get back to cooking. Let’s see, just have to wait for the soup to boil and then to stick the fish in the oven. Yes, there should be enough time. Coming back to you, Emiya nudges you up and slides under you, draping your upper body along his thighs and cradling your head and shoulders in the crook of one muscled arm.

“Hm?” You crack one eye open to stare curiously up at him.

Although he’s been in much more compromising situations with you, Emiya still blushes and averts his gaze. “Y-you looked so pitiful, I couldn’t resist.” And before you could say anything, he’s already stripping you of your hoodie and shirt, even your bra, leaving you bare from the hips up. His strong hand cups the back of your neck, calming you with its heat.

Immediately, you start purring, “Mmm, your hand’s so warm~”

A smile threatens to break his face. With one arm supporting your upper body, he squeezes and presses at the back of your neck, coaxing you to relax under his touch as he slowly massages his way down the length of your spine. Soft little noises leak out from your contented self, noises that would be erotic if it weren’t for the tired edge to them. So Emiya calms his libido and shifts you so that you’re curled up on his lap proper, your head propped up on his broad shoulder.

“Take your shirt off,” you mutter, tugging at the hem.

Amused, he obeys, raising his free hand and tugging at the back of his shirt to take it off. The second it clears his head, you’re burrowing into the wide expanse of his chest, your nose buried into his clavicle. Though it makes him shiver, the archer lets you nose into his sensitive skin, feeling you edge further and further north until you have your face stuffed into the crook of his neck, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders securely.

The deep, contented sigh you let out precedes you melting entirely into his embrace, your body turning to jelly as he continues to massage your lower back, getting at that one spot that always aches no matter what you do. Under your cheek, your lips, you can feel the silk of his skin. It amazes you how soft and silky his skin feels, like the sensuous chocolate he likes to make for you, contrasting sharply against the callouses on his hands as he kneads at your back carefully. His warmth, too, seeps into you and soothes that bone-deep weariness that refuses to go away these days.

“Feeling better?” He murmurs against your ear, taking care not to speak too loudly or press too hard when you moan and wriggle closer.

“Mmhm.” You don’t bother with a proper response, too busy soaking up his affection as he stops massaging and starts to just touch you.

With one hand rasping up and down your back, the other cups your head and pulls out your hair band. Emiya has always had a strange fascination with your hair, always touching it, always taking every opportunity to just run his fingers through your tresses. And now, when he’s free to do it as he wishes, he tangles his fingers into your hair and lets them flow down his forearm. The more he messes with your hair, the more he combs his fingers through it, the more your familiar scent wafts into his nose. Unable to resist, he turns his head and tucks his nose into the crown of your head, taking deep, deep breaths of your scent. It’s hard for him to describe what you smell like, really. It’s a bit of your favourite shampoo, a bit of the detergent you use, and something that he likes to refer to as the smell of home. It would be a disservice to call it the smell of your home, but rather a smell of *his* home.

For a good, long while, he cradles you in his arms like something that’s infinitely precious. Gathers you up into his embrace with one arm under your knees and the other curved around your back. Shelters you in the bulk of his body, the wing-like breadth of his shoulders easily swallowing you up. Tucked so close to him, Emiya can feel your breaths, can tell that you’re dozing lightly. Caught in the peaceful, empty land between wakefulness and sleep. The brushing of your thumb against his back tells him you’re still awake, aware just enough to hear him and respond.

But as he watches you sleep in the reflection of the tv opposite him, something about the small furrow in your brow makes him frown.

“I’ll draft that email for you later,” he murmurs quietly, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Mm?”

He hitches you closer. “The one you’ve been dreading to write, that one. I’ve seen you rewrite it over and over. I’ll do it for you then you can send it when you’re ready.”

You sigh in defeat. “I feel bad.”

A growl builds in his great chest. “You shouldn’t feel bad for putting yourself first.” He’s seen her agonise over the work, seen her redo wonderful pieces of work over and over just to get it right. And in the end, it wasn’t enough to make them happy. “You can’t go through it again. I won’t let you.”

You scoff a laugh, but you don’t protest. With a heavy sigh, you snuggle closer and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Emiya lets himself smile and he nudges you up so he can kiss your cheeks, your eyes, and then your lips tenderly. “I told you, I’ll rip apart anyone who tries to harm you.” A smile mirroring his blooms on your lips as he kisses you, and that’s when he knows he’s done his job.

“Thanks, Emiya,” you whisper into his kiss, tilting your head to return it properly, one of your hands sinking into his plush hair to pull him closer. And just like that, you lose yourself in his kisses. All you can think of is how his lips are so warm, so infinitely gentle as they kiss you, as they open for your questing tongue. His hands clutch at your back and your thigh, crushing you to his chest until there’s not even a sliver of air between your bodies. The groan that escapes him makes you smile, too, and you let out a moan just to reward him. A reward that suits him just fine, judging by the shiver that wrecks him and makes him harden under you.

That night, you wave off his embarrassed stutters about an over-thick soup and late dinner. Of course, he makes up for it with a scathing email (that you carefully edit) and enthusiasm under the covers that keep you up until the wee hours of the morning.


	10. Gilgamesh (Archer) - Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not connected to the previous Caster Gil chapter!

"You have got to be kidding me."

"Fuhahahahaha! Being able to summon me means that you've used up all of your luck, mongrel," Gilgamesh, class Archer, bellows out as he descends from the summoning circle, resplendent in his bright gold armour. He holds his arms akimbo and tilts his chin, looking down his nose at you. "Well? What is your name? Or has my perfect form rendered you speechless?"

You rub your temples and pray to whatever gods remain to give you patience. "I'm the Master that summoned you," you explain, giving him your name and accepting his haughty nod.

"I am surprised you have the power to summon me," he sniffs, sneering at his younger self who stands beside you with his arms crossed.

"I'm surprised you have the bad luck to summon him, Master," Gil-kun shoots back at his older self, tugging at your hand to lead you away. "Come on, Master, we have to tell my other self the bad news."

"Other self?" Archer Gilgamesh narrows his eyes.

Luckily for you and for Gil-kun, the last of the Gilgameshes appears at the door when it slides open. This one, too, narrows his eyes at the man in ridiculous armour. "I still can't believe I used to wear that armour. It's truly quite stifling. And ugly."

Archer reels back and then puffs up with a snarl. "S-stifling? Ugly?!" It amuses you to see him sputter for once. "It is a symbol of my great wealth, future me. Surely you can understand that." Then he gestures towards Caster's chosen garb. "Then again, I'd rather be fully armoured than wear scraps of cloth like that."

"Scraps of cloth?!" Caster stomps forward.

You quickly dart between them, pushing Gil-kun away as he, too, advances towards Archer. "Ooookay, boys, save the chit chat for later." Preferably when you're not around and when Da Vinci is. "You," you point at Caster, "Go back to my room." You point at Gil-kun, "Go find Alexander." And then you point at Archer, "You, with me. I'm going to give you a tour and find a room for you. Don't give me lip."

Archer instantly begins to snarl, his red eyes turning to dangerous slits. "How dare you order me around, mongrel? You are barely-"

He doesn't manage to finish the sentence before you raise the back of your hand to him, displaying the bright command seals glowing upon your skin. With a quirk of your brow, you drawl out, "How dare I?"

"Hah, a mongrel thinks it's my equal simply because it's summoned me," Archer purrs, disappearing and reappearing before you with a disdainful leer on his face. "How amusing."

You, too, narrow your eyes and glare up at your new servant, meeting his glower head on.

At the side, both Caster and Gil-kun cross their arms and look on with amusement on their faces. "How long do you think he'll last?"

"If he's us, she might have to slap him to make him blink."

Caster looks down at his child self. "What?"

Gil-kun smiles angelically up at Caster. "It worked on me."


	11. Iskandar - Summoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's really insane how Alexander can grow into Iskandar...

It never really hit you that Alexander is the boyhood form of Iskandar. The teenage boy is approachable, companionable, and entirely normal sized. Lord El-Melloi himself assured you Iskandar is a giant, but he too is unable to process that Alexander would grow up into...this.

"Oh, you have done well to draw me! Iskandar, King of Conquerors, shall carve out your path!" Iskandar, resplendent in vibrant red cloth and well-tooled leather armour, steps down from the summoning dais, arms held out as he looks around the chamber. "Interesting, very interesting!" 

Alexander giggles at your face and pokes at your cheek. "Hey, earth to master!"

You shake yourself out of your stupor and blink at the shadow falling over you, tilting your head up, up, up until you're looking into Iskandar's amused eyes. "Good gods, you're fucking tall."

"I am." Is Iskandar's simple response. 

Alexander's shaking form brings your attention to him and you slap him in a fit of pique. "Stop laughing!"

The redheaded boy finally crumples down onto his knees, his body wracked by hysterical laughter. "Y-your face! AHahahahah!"

"Why you little." You reach down, about to strangle your servant when Iskandar's hand stops you. A hand that completely wraps around your bicep and then some. You stare down at that tanned hand, then look up into your newest servant's face. "How the hell did you grow from that," you point at a still giggling Alexander, then up to him. "Into this?"

Iskandar puts his hand to his beard in thought. "A reasonable question, Master," he rumbles, then shrugs. "Puberty would be the obvious answer, but I believe my heritage and my diet also plays a part." He picks his younger self up by the back of his armour, dangling him and waiting patiently for the boy to stop laughing. "I must admit, I was kind of scrawny when I was younger."  
"But I made up for it in raw strength!" Both crow together, laughing sonorously in time with each other. Turns out their laughter is the same no matter how old he is.

You scratch your head a little, but you let out a little laugh yourself. It's a little trippy to have two versions of the same person, although admittedly it's a lot easier to swallow than cute little Gil-kun versus stick-up-his-butt Gilgamesh. In fact, you were about to quip just that when you're cut off by your own yelp as you're lifted clear off your feet. "Iskandar!"

The redheaded giant merely grins at you and puts you on his shoulder to join young Alexander, whose grin mirrors his older self. "Come, master, we shall journey forth and conquer!"

"Conquer what?" 

"Why, the rest of your lily-livered servants, of course!" 


	12. Gilgamesh (Caster) - Prophetic Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a snippet of something I wrote for a personal project. Basically, it's just Keeper of Time Ritsuka deciding to travel back in time to deliver some bad news.

Gilgamesh has often had prophetic dreams in his life, though admittedly none of them were as vivid as this. Stars stretch out over his head, into the distance, into the horizon, until he cannot tell where it ends. All around him is desolation, a single plateau amongst devastation that is filled with shadow and flickering lights. And before him stands a single figure at the precipice of it all.

“Come closer, Gilgamesh. To the edge.” The voice, familiar yet alien, calls him forth. 

For the life of him, he cannot place it. Cannot connect it to anyone or anything. Yet he obeys soundlessly, his feet taking him to the side of the mysterious stranger whose back is still turned to him. Idly, he wonders if he should turn his head to look into their face, to try and figure out who they are. 

“What’s the point of this dream?” Bah, he’ll figure it out as he goes.

The stranger chuckles, their voice oscillating between male and female and everything in between. “It’s right before you, Gilgamesh. Open your eyes and look.” 

Gritting his teeth, Gilgamesh bites back a scathing comment that he *is* looking out at the carnage before him. “Get to the point.”  
“Hah,” they snicker, tempting the golden king to turn his head to them. Even that laugh seems so familiar as to frustrate him. “No, my good king. *Open your eyes and look*.” Their voice takes on an echoing tone, reverberating throughout this gods-forgotten landscape until he shivers at the power that shakes him to the very bone.

Instantly, the scenery warps, darkness pulling back and lights brightening until he’s faced with a very familiar sight indeed. The land under his feet, once brown and lifeless, shiver and bleed back into a vibrant green. An overlook presiding over a land that slowly rebuilds itself. No, not rebuilding. If his eyes don’t deceive him, the black muck that coats the earth recedes and the ground rises out of the hole that it became. With a jolt, he realises that time is rewinding itself, showing him the end result before reversing, revealing the events that came before. 

The shadow of a truly massive creature casts its great shadow over the golden city of his kingship, crawling back to the lapping darkness from whence it came. Bright lights zip back and forth over the land, one even glowing by their feet before it disappears off into the distance as well. Pale green hair flits by Gilgamesh’s face, the faint scent of flora wafting by his nose before it disappears like everything else before his eyes. 

Pushing aside the grief bubbling up in his chest, Gilgamesh closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath, taking in the putrid stench of death and blood and no small number of flowers into his lungs. Then, as he opens his eyes, he finally turns to the stranger who still stands by his side. 

“You’re showing me the end of an era.” A statement. No longer a question. “My era.”

The stranger, a woman no taller than his shoulder with bright auburn hair tied in a complicated braid, nods. “Yes.” She looks up at him then, startling orange eyes ringed with a bright light boring into his own blood red ones. “Such a fate cannot be changed.”

Anger chokes him at the revelation. “I only ever see one possibility. I can save it. I can save Uruk.”

The sadness and pity clouding the woman’s hellfire eyes merely stoke the fire in his chest. “No, Gilgamesh. I can show you every possible future, but all roads end here. With the end to your kingdom.”

And your kingship. 

She doesn’t say it, but he can tell. “I die as well, don’t I.”

“You are Uruk. Uruk is you.” She offers with an incline of her head. “Where one ends and the other begins, even I cannot tell.”

“Uruk is a people!” Gilgamesh snaps, allowing his tightly leashed emotions to spill forth in this place between life and death, between dreaming and waking. “As long as they exist, so will Uruk.”

Her eyes flutter shut and she spins on her heel to walk away. “You’re right, Uruk cannot exist without its people.” 

His hand on her bicep stops her. Gilgamesh takes a moment to be impressed by the powerful muscles under his touch, but only a moment, because he’s hauling her close to bend his head and look her in those unnerving eyes. “I cannot lose my people. Oracle, I cannot lose my people.” Desperation tinges his voice. “Not when I have just regained them. Please, tell me there’s another way!”

His grip must be becoming painful, yet she only pats his hand comfortingly with a sympathetic expression. “The Era of Gods will come to a close one way or another. It will always end with the demise of your city and your people. All you can do is make sure you make the most of the time you have left.” At his broken, choked gasp, she steps close and hugs him tenderly. “Record what you can, Gilgamesh. Your people might not live on, but they will be remembered.”

It is hardly any consolation. But Gilgamesh gathers himself and straightens up, his hands on her arms now. “Oracle…”

Finally, she laughs lightly. “I’m no Oracle, Gilgamesh. Just the bearer of bad news.”

Snidely, Gilgamesh hisses back, “That’s the same thing.”

Shaking her head, the woman, the Oracle, steps back and pats his shoulder. “Take heart, Gilgamesh. You won’t be alone in the end of days. Although,” she stops and appears to think, a faraway look in her eyes, “You shouldn’t turn down help when they come to you. It might come from the most unexpected of places and in the form you least expect, but come they will.” 

Drinking in her wisdom, Gilgamesh nods carefully. “I understand.” 

Now that her work is done, the Oracle turns with a smile and walks away from the edge, her hair fluttering in the non-existent wind. “Godspeed, Gilgamesh. I hope we can meet under better circumstances in the future.” Then she stops and looks over her shoulder with a cheeky grin. “And don’t worry, I’ll make sure you remember this dream. Can’t have you forgetting about the end of the world, now can we?”

How embarrassing that a god knew about his propensity to see the future and then promptly forget it. “My thanks, Oracle.” 

The last thing he hears before he wakes is the sound of her kind laughter. 

As he stirs awake, Gilgamesh rubs his left pectoral with a groan. Looking down, he expects to see a wound there, but his pale skin is unbroken. Unmarred. No matter, it must be another sign the Oracle has given him. The Oracle. He closes his eyes and recalls his dream with shocking clarity, absorbing the wisdom he received and taking a fortifying breath. 

When he opens his eyes, they land on the gleaming chalice they call the Holy Grail. Later on, he realises exactly what the Oracle means by help coming in the form he least expects.

“King Gilgamesh! I, Merlin, mage extraordinaire, have brought guests! Busy? Yeah, I can see that, so don’t worry! I’ll bring them right now!” Merlin’s voice interrupts him mid-yell and Gilgamesh whirls around, just about to lay into his nonsensical court mage when he catches sight of an eerily familiar pair of eyes. 

It’s the Oracle. Yet not. The godly aura around her is absent, her hair shorter, her physique weaker and softer. Those odd orange eyes bear no recognition when they fall upon his face and to be honest, Gilgamesh doesn’t expect them to. Truly, he didn’t expect her to come help herself, but he supposes this is just as good.

Absently, he hears Merlin making excuses for not bringing the tablet, he notes the shieldmaiden clinging to the not-Oracle, and lets a tiny smile quirk at his lips before he wipes it away. “It’s fine. I understand the situation. You may go, Siduri.” Then he takes out the Dingir, his claws scraping at the clay as he stands and advances. 

There is one thing he’s curious about – whether the Oracle will feel the punishment he’s about to rain upon her clearly younger self. He doesn’t appreciate being petted like a child, even if he was just seconds from breaking. “Be ready to clean the throne! No need to worry, I’m simply sending two strangers back to the heavens!”

And if he takes particular delight in sending the not-Oracle on her ass, he doesn’t comment on it.


End file.
